Page 90 of Goaltender Interference

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Matt asked.

“It’s lovely. And it’s nice to get out into the fresh air. It’s—I forgot how much I missed a real winter.”

“Come on, you never got one in New York?”

“I mean, we had snows, but they’d get churned up into slush so quickly,” Aiden said, as they walked through the portal door. “Even if I went to Central Park, it didn’t really last long.” He let go of Matt’s hand for a brief second, ducking down to grab a handful of snow and toss it at him. It caught Matt right in the chest, splattering all over his parka, cold against his face.

“What the fuck,” he gasped, and Aiden was laughing, ducking down for more snow. “Ohh, you’re in for it now—”

It was a brief, brutal snowball fight, without much time to really form them into balls that would have any weight, but with enough snow flying that both of their hair, their coats, their clothes, were quickly sopping wet with it anyway. There was no one to judge them, no one to raise an eyebrow at two grown men acting like small children. Aiden looked a little like some kind of forest spirit with snow and ice crusted in his hair and eyelashes and beard, a wild look in his light brown eyes, like one of the foxes that hunted through the grounds.

Instead of lunging for more snow, Matt grabbed Aiden’s wrists in icy fingers and backed him up against the stone wall. Aiden’s eyes widened, but he didn’t fight, trapped between the cold stone and Matt’s warm body.

“Anyone could see,” Aiden said, looking down at Matt’s mouth. He licked his lips, a little nervously.

“This is what you were angling for with that snow, wasn’t it?” Matt said quietly, just to feel Aiden shiver. Let go of one of his hands just briefly enough to brush some of the snow from his hair, to cup his jaw with one hand. “You always got excited, thinking about that, didn’t you?”

“Matty...” Aiden’s voice was breathy, nervous, excited, and he was so fucking irresistible that Matt couldn’t help doing the reckless thing and kissing him. His mouth was hot but his lips were cold, frozen from the snow, and he was trembling under the force of it, his whole body shivering.

“Aiden,” Matt said, “you know I’d do anything for you, don’t you? Baby?”

Aiden didn’t answer, just kissed him back, desperately, like if their mouths weren’t tangled together, their bodies weren’t touching, if Aiden’s leg wasn’t shoved between Matt’s thighs, he might expire.

Eventually, reluctantly, Matt pulled away. As reckless and as open as they’d been, he didn’t need anyone taking pictures and posting them online. Although they were technically in public, it was a moment that had felt precious and private and necessary. “Come on,” he said, “I have a whole lot more planned for today.”

They had a leisurely lunch at the garden’s café, and by the time they’d dried off and warmed up, Matt decided to take Aiden back to the MMFA, where they could walk quietly together and enjoy the art without Miles yelling at Matt, or Ellie talking Aiden’s ear off. Matt didn’t hold his hand, there, but hethought about it, the way that Aiden had gripped him tightly like he was afraid of letting go.

They had an early dinner at a yakitori spot Matt had been meaning to try, split skewers of hearts and gizzards and octopus, knees bumping under the table. It was the kind of place that was loud and crowded and Matt only had to sign autographs a few times, ignore the curious eyes flicking to Aiden, who was shrinking again in the chair whenever anyone approached them.

“Was this a good day?” Matt asked him, as they were walking back to the car, full from dinner, warm even against the face of the cold winter chill.

“The best,” Aiden admitted, and looked down at him, serious. “I hope you know how much I appreciate all of this.”

“Appreciate?”

“Just—I know I’m not much fun to be around lately. I just...that you’re still trying. That you still want to be with me.”

“Of course I still want to be with you, Aiden, I—”

“Less talking, more going home and fucking me, I think,” Aiden cut him off, and Matt couldn’t argue with that.

Later that night, Aiden wrapped tightly around him, head thrown back and eyes wide open, an inexplicably melancholy look in his eyes. “Baby,” Matt gasped, seated so deeply in Aiden’s body that he felt like he could barely move, desperately needing to move anyway, “what’s wrong? Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Aiden managed. “No, I just—I just—one day you’re going to—you’re going—” Instead of finishing, Aiden closed his eyes, like that would prevent Matt from asking any further questions. His hands stilled on Matt’s back, his fingers gentle against the bunch of muscle at Matt’s shoulder, where he was holding himself up above Aiden’s body. When Aiden spoke, his voice was ragged, from sex but also an emotion so deep itseemed like it hurt him. “Matty, you’re too good to me, you’re toogoodto me, and I don’t deserve it.”

Mystified, Matt said, “I don’t—I don’t understand, Aiden. I love you. Iloveyou, I—”

“Please, stop talking,” Aiden said, his voice trembling, “please, just fuck me,” and Matt, who could never say no to him, obliged.

Matt was on the last night of a roadie and Aiden was running to the summit of Mont-Royal for the second time that day.

There was nothing else to do except run, so he kept running.

He looked down at the city and thought about doing this, day after day, for the rest of the season.

He thought about doing this for years. He thought about what he was going to do if Matt signed somewhere else in free agency, whether Matt would even want to drag Aiden along, whetherhe’deven want to go and have to get used to another city. He thought about Matt sayingyou know I’d do anything for you, and what Aiden wanted anything to be was Matt, home with him, something he could never bring himself to ask for. He thought about Matt, pushing himself through the pain of his knee, because he—like Aiden years ago—loved hockey too much to give it up. He thought about how he couldn’t ever ask that from Matt, that he didn’t deserve to ask for it.

He thought about how it was going to feel when it ended, when Matt inevitably realized that Aiden wasn’t the man he used to be and probably wouldn’t ever be again, when Aiden had to pick up the pieces for the third time in his life. He thought about Matt, patient and kind and funny, and he thought about Matt, too fucking kind to let Aidengo.

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